Constricted Space
by Mir
Summary: Months after the movie, the Avengers have gone their separate ways, but new threats conspire to reunite the scattered heroes. What begins with Loki's escape ends with something far worse. Multi-part, ultimately Natasha/Clint-centric.
1. Chapter 1

**Title**: Constricted Space  
**Author**: Mir  
**Date**: 12 June 2012

... ... ... ...

Disclaimer: I make no claim to any of the Marvel characters, the storylines, or the overall universe. I do not write for compensation; this is purely a hobby.

Author's note: This is undoubtedly a larger project than my first Avengers piece ("The City That Never Sleeps"), and my track record for actually finishing longer works is abysmal. But I did outline it through at least three or four chapters... It's Clint / Natasha-centric but includes the full "Avengers" movie cast (maybe Jane from "Thor" as well farther down the line).

... ... ... ...

"Observe and monitor... but at a distance. Unobtrusive, inconspicuous..."

"Thanks, Wilson, I think I know how to keep an eye on a party." Agent Barton leaned back in his chair, arms folded across his chest, and tried (unsuccessfully) to keep a straight face. He'd gone through three handlers in as many weeks, and this one was no better than the rest. A rambling mess of nerves... and probably not enough composure to keep his head straight in the field. It wasn't really his fault. None of the others had been much better, and no one could ever be a replacement for...

"Agent Barton, do I have to remind you that the last time Tony Stark threw a party, it resulted in over two million dollars worth of damage to his Malibu property and the theft of an iron man suit?" The tone wavered somewhere between patronizing and chiding, and for Clint Barton - otherwise known as the SHIELD agent Hawkeye - that was enough to seal this handler's fate. It was unfortunate, really. Fury would be disappointed (again) that another well-intentioned pairing had fallen through.

"Well, a man's got a right to celebrate his own birthday," he shot back, mostly to see how far he could push Wilson before the man lost that irritating veneer of superiority.

"Barton, this is no time for jokes. The assignment came directly from Director Fury. You'd better take it seriously."

"Well, then you can tell the director yourself that both Hawkeye and the Black Widow will be in position at Stark Tower tomorrow evening." It had angered him at first to learn that every evaluation of his performance was being passed up to SHIELD's top leadership and was probably being made available to the council as well (it was Natasha who had hacked the SHIELD computer network to discover that fact). So much for trust and a flawless professional service record. Well, perhaps not flawless... but still. The years of unwavering dedication should at least count for something.

"Agent Romanoff was not included on this mission."

"Well you can't expect me to show up at New York's top social event of the month without a date." He knew this was probably some kind of test and that he'd likely just failed, but this was Stark and the Avengers, and he wanted Natasha's support... in case things somehow got out of hand like they seemed to when the Avengers were involved. Plus, she'd worked for Stark and knew her way around the Tower.

"If you want to write your own script, then the blame's on your head not mine." Wilson retorted in a voice that slipped from indignant to whiny.

"Fine. I'll make sure that's noted at the post-mission debrief." He'd pushed his chair back from the table and was about to leave Wilson's softly muttered final shot made him pause.

"The director said you'd insist on Romanoff's involvement."

Clint gave him a long, chill look across the table, then rose and left the room without another word.

... ... ... ...

The party was, like any Stark production, an over-the-top affair.

They'd arrived early and, after convincing Jarvis to allow the helicopter to land on the tower's roof ('I just simply didn't bring any clothes appropriate for repelling' Natasha had cajoled), had enjoyed the company of Bruce and Pepper Potts while Tony busied himself with personally overseeing the final preparations for the night's event.

"I'd tell you to go ahead and make yourselves at home..." he'd said after dashing up the penthouse to ask for Potts' opinion on a color scheme for the buffet table label cards. With a glance, he'd taken in the open wine bottles and array of hors d'oeuvres scattered across the bar and side tables. "...but it looks like Ms. Potts has beaten me to it."

"Well I couldn't just drop them off at the lab with Bruce," Pepper had explained as she pointed decisively to the tan/teal colored swatch and hurried Tony back out the door. "You science types sometimes forget even the basics of being a proper host."

"That's why I keep you around, dear." Stark had flashed one of his classic smiles before the closing elevator doors cut him off.

After that, there wasn't much to do but wait. Bruce (who insisted that he was never one for parties anyway) volunteered to watch the security cameras during the event and alert them if he saw anything out of the ordinary.

"You know you're not on the SHIELD payroll, right?" Natasha had commented, but Banner simply murmured something about wanting to do his part and the other guy not liking crowds, so she let the matter go and thanked him for his help. If Clint's new handler was as bad as he said he was, then it would be probably be a relief to have someone else in her ear - even Banner's flat tone and dry humor.

She'd stood by the window after Pepper had left (dragged away by Stark after his third appearance at the elevator door... she'd rattled off some apology but seemed pleased to be back in the middle of Tony's hectic whirlwind party planning). Behind her, Clint and Bruce were deep in discussion over the physics of projectiles and were making liberal use of Tony's computer database. The ghostly transparent images flew in circles as reflections on the window's mirrored glass - fragments of weapons and tech and science. At first she'd wondered why Clint seemed to get along so well with Bruce, had even been jealous of their rapport. But then she'd seem the way Bruce handled him - all business, no uncomfortable personal questions, no wary doubt that Loki's influence had indeed been eradicated - and decide that the two were good for each other.

You'd have to be blind to miss the way some at SHIELD tiptoed around him... and not because they feared his sharp tongue or less-than-congenial attitude. Things had changed, for her as well. It was the Avengers. The Avengers and Loki.

"It's time to move into position." The men's heads popped up at her words, and the suspended diagrams stalled in mid-flight. From behind her, the setting sun threaded down through the New York skyscrapers and threw long orange shadows across the floor. They rose without a word, brushed the crumbs from their laps, and nodded in agreement. It might have originally been Barton's assignment, but they all had tacitly agreed that this show was more suited for Natasha's skill set.

... ... ... ...

The night was hot, the skirts were short, and some outfits were clearly pushing the limits of public decency. Beneath the blare of music reverberating from the walls as echoes layered upon echoes, two lone figures in black lingered at the party's edge. The man, in particular, was quick to send curious parties away with a biting remark or scathing glare. Fortunately, most of the guests were too drunk to take offense.

Natasha, for her part, had shaken off the clumsy advances of a pimple-faced teenager in lime-checkered pants and had been circling back toward the buffet tables when a girl sporting little more than a lace-draped bikini stumbled drunkenly across her path. With a sigh, she shot a hand out and yanked her back toward the open floor before she collided head-first with the dessert table. The girl gave her a wide-eyed, deer-in-headlights look - mixed with something between confusion and gratitude - before teetering off in the opposite direction.

The whole evening had been a waste of time. Guests came and went like moths dancing toward a flame, making the rounds at Stark Tower one minute, then dashing off across the city to the next event without a backward glance. Just one stop on an endless parade empty pastimes. Even a common fist-meets-nose bar fight would have helped pass the time.

"Anything on the cameras, Banner?" she asked, more out of boredom than genuine interest. She'd finish the job properly, of course, but it would sure help if there were even a bit of challenge to it.

"Nothing suspicious," he replied, his voice trailing off in a way the people's often do when they have something else on their mind. Natasha waited for the other shoe to drop. "But if all these people knew that they were going to be on camera... Heck, if I knew that I was going to have to watch them on camera... I just... are some of those positions even humanly possible?" He sighed deeply into the microphone, a gesture of resignation. "Don't mind me. I'll get over it."

"Weren't you in India? The birthplace of the Kama Sutra?" Barton's voice interjected, his mic picking up the background noise of cars honking by the front of the building.

"Cut the chatter, boys. We still have a job to finish." Natasha smiled despite herself. Any levity from Clint was a welcome change from the dour intensity he'd adopted since the incident with Loki. Not that he'd ever been particularly lighthearted... but lately, he'd retreated into himself so far that even she had trouble reaching him.

"Hey, were there storms on the weather forecast?" Barton's question (directed more at Banner) broke her train of thought, pulling her back to the task at hand. She glanced at her watch - only 2200, and the party showed no signs of waning.

"Because there's some serious lightning out here." As if to prove his point, a sudden clap of thunder shook the sky, audible even over the heavy base line deep inside the tower's interior.

"Uh, negative on that," Bruce replied, confusion evident in his tone. "Just got the radar up, and if I'm seeing this correctly, there's some kind of very localized pressure system directly over the tower." He paused, digesting the data. "I mean, it's less than half a block around this building. "There's just no natural way-"

"That crazy sonofabitch... I'd wondered how long he'd stay away." It took a moment for Clint's words to click, and then, like that, everything made sense.

"Did Fury know? Is that why he wanted you here tonight?" She asked as she elbowed and shoved her way across the dance floor. Girls teetering in stilettos and miniskirts scattered before her. Sometimes violence is, in fact, was the answer.

"Know what?" Banner implored, sounding put-out at being left out of the loop.

"If Thor's really here, it means he's come back to track down that astronomer of his... or his brother's on the loose again," Barton muttered, more to himself than to the others. Below him at the ground-level entrance, pedestrians caught in the sudden storm pressed themselves under the tower's grand awning and mixed with party guests in a wild jumble of umbrellas and overcoats. A constant flow of taxis inched by like animals on a merry-go-round, picking up and shedding passengers in a staccato percussion of squealing breaks and slamming doors. His eyes drifted up from his newly-acquired third-story perch to the epicenter of the weather, and for a brief moment, a spark of fear clutched at his gut. Loki. He should have put an arrow straight through his eye when he had the chance.

... ... ... ...

I'll leave off there (while I'm still ahead?) and pick up with Thor's entrance in the second chapter. Was this one too boring? Not enough action or plot development? Anyone too out of character? Let me know, if you'd like. Constructive criticism is always welcome!

[m]


	2. Chapter 2

**Title**: Constricted Space  
**Author**: Mir  
**Date**: 19 June 2012

**Author's note**: Here's part two... Still a little bit of a scene-setter. I promise there is some action in my outline. It just... seems to be taking me awhile to get there.

... ... ... ...

**Part 2**

There are some things in life that are simply inherited. The byproduct of genetics passed laboriously down from generation to generation, the birthright of those fortunate few, the spontaneous burst of genius that results from the stars' perfect alignment... To Tony Stark - New York's infamous playboy genius billionaire - the 'why' or 'how' hardly mattered. The real sticking point was that this was his party (by God, he'd spent the better part of a week pulling everything together), and therefore, the only one allowed to make grand entrances was himself. This was genetics, this was karma, this was simply right.

The dust was finally settling around New York's newest pothole, and at it's center, stood the larger-than-life, hammer-wielding Asgardian monarch stealing his show right out from under him.

"Stark!" The voice boomed over the rising din of excitement as guests and bystanders recognized the arrival as a member of the Avenger's team (and the tall, blond, thunder-commanding, alien demi-god one at that). "Stark, my friend, we need to talk."

And so, it was with both annoyance and resignation that Tony flicked on the intercom and ordered everyone to clear out. "Party's over folks. Find somewhere else to lose your virginity." The crowd had complained piteously, and he'd almost been ready to unleash the sprinkler system on them to clear out the tower when suddenly the air filled with that unmistakable stinging pain of tear gas.

It was later, when just the six of them had reconvened in the top floor penthouse, and had simmered down to a mild roar, that he noticed the lines of stress and worry etched into Thor's face and the quiet, resigned way he sighed to himself when he thought no one was looking. He looked tired, exhausted even, which didn't bode well for the rest of the evening.

Tony poured himself a drink, knocked it back in one gulp, then refilled the glass and swirled the amber liquid as he surveyed his room. Pepper, looking only slightly the worse for wear after a full night of playing hostess, was offering Thor refreshments while Bruce sat nearby looking everywhere but around the circle people around him. On the other couch, Natasha and Clint had their heads together tersely discussing something or another in Russian... It had been the former who had dispersed his guests so expeditiously, though where she'd stashed a tear gas grenade beneath her cocktail dress was beyond his understanding. Try as they might to deny it, those two were truly thick as thieves.

In fact, the only one missing from the impromptu gathering was Steve. After the world had been saved, the captain had gone off on his own - ostensibly to acclimate to modern culture and reintegrate into society. Of course, it was equally likely that he was simply holed up in some crappy apartment just down the street reminiscing about long past decades and spending more time with himself than is clinically healthy.

"So, Odinson, I didn't realize you were one for crashing parties," Tony drawled as he leaned an elbow on top of the bar and set his empty glass down beside him. "What brings you back to to our planet so soon?"

"I'm sorry to say, friend, that it is not glad tidings." It wasn't quite sadness that colored the deep, booming voice but something closer to regret. "When we last parted ways, I took with me my brother and the Tesseract. We left your world using it's power to return to Asgard where Loki was to be judged for his crimes."

Where Stark relied on fast talking and loud soundtracks to drive his points home, Thor's allure as a orator was the raw power of a unshakable yet restrained self-confidence.

"The Tesseract is an artifact of immense power. Even I do not fully understand its workings." He paused, glanced once around the room, and then continued with a heavy tone. "We were traveling under its power when suddenly we were not, and I found myself standing alone on a planet I did not recognize. The air was warm and its weight pressed down upon my shoulders as I stood bewildered in the mud. In one hand I still gripped the handle of the Tesseract's casing, in the other, the Mjolnir. However, Loki was gone."

His audience was too familiar with worst case scenarios to gasp or at his admission, but Hawkeye and the Black Widow shared a tense look, and Tony reached for his glass again, only to find it empty.

"Believe me when I say that once I returned to Asgard, we searched high and low. Not a rock was left unturned or a path left unexplored." Thor shook his head, perhaps in frustration, maybe in apology for his failings. "It took us many days to understand what had happened."

In bits and pieces, the details of Loki's escape came together over the next quarter hour as the night sunk deeper into darkness and the crescent mood arched it's way across the sky. Somehow, Loki has managed to disrupt the flow of energy for just a fraction of a second (improbably but technically possible, according to the two resident physicists), which had interrupted the transport and dumped both Thor and the Tesseract well short of their intended destination. Assuming that Loki had let go of the casing just a breath before the interruption, he would have been deposited at a separate location an unknown distance away.

"We searched for weeks," Thor admitted with a wave of his hand. "But there was not a trace, not even the slightest lead to follow." Again, he looked from face to face around the room, meeting each person's eyes in turn. "We would have hunted him down, dragged him back from the far edges of the nine worlds, made him stand before the king and answer for his actions. Believe me when I say we would." And from the expressions of his listeners, no one doubted his sincerity.

"But let me get this straight," Tony began after a spell of somewhat awkward silence. "You lost Loki - or rather, after all the sweat and blood of catching him, he escaped and disappeared into the woodwork, and so you came here to..."

"To warn you, of course," was the immediate reply. A stern glare from Natasha was enough to make even the heir of Ashard look contrite. "Even my father admits that we do not know where to look for him. My brother harbors a grudge against your world. It is probable that he will return here eventually, if only to finish what he started." He sighed, shoulders visibly sinking as he continued. "Until then, I am to stay with you and do what I can to aid your search."

... ... ... ...

In the end, they contacted SHIELD, and Fury himself arrived just as the haze of pre-dawn was seeping up from horizon and consuming the fading stars. The clocks read 0512 (or thereabouts), and Tony was admittedly dead on his feet. Not that he was a stranger to stumbling red-eyed around his quarters after a sleepless nights of... pleasurable diversions. But the guests moping around his living room was a sullen, long-faced lot, and not even Pepper's offer of coffee (a good nutty, strong-bodied roast, not that acidic black water that government dispensers spit out) and cranberry scones could get a reaction out of the bunch.

Fury swept smoothly through the elevator doors in his trademark black leather jacket, serious, all business despite the eary hour. With an icy glance, he evaluated the scene before him and dismissed most of the room's occupants as too exhausted to be of much use. "Barton, report."

To the archer's right, Thor, who sat in a sea of scattered scone crumbs looking uncharacteristicly contrite, offered a second retelling of the Loki saga, but Fury's flat one-eyed frown showed that he'd already heard the news.

"Nothing new of note beyond what we already relayed to you. Jarvis scanned all available media and restricted reporting. There are no signs of Loki yet, sir." Clint's reply lacked any of his usual dry sarcasm, but he looked all too alert after a night without sleep, even after ceding his share of the breakfast to Thor. Tony looked up from where he was still sliding news clippings from screen to screen and pressed his lips together in thought.

"But the algorithm points to the Bay area as the most likely location for Loki to appear," he commented with a forced smile to no one in particular. "That is, if you normalize the equation to factor in weather and the Lady Gaga concert scheduled for next Saturday."

Fury was less than impressed and conveyed his opinion through not offering his host even a nod in response. "I want all of you to come back with me and stay on the helicarrier until we have more information. We're dealing with a serious situation here, and we don't have much to go on. Romanoff, Barton, I want both of you two to-"

"Now wait just one minute." Tony's loud interjection cut through the heavy stillness, and Fury (not a man accustomed to being interrupted) pivoted sharply.

"It's one thing for you to order those two around, but I've a multi-billion-dollar company to run here and shareholders to think about, and if you think for one moment I'm going to run back with you all and hide on that inefficient, vulnerable sitting duck of a carrier of yours, well, think again-"

"-I suppose you've a better plan," Fury replied magnanimously.

"Seeing how well the 'huddle on the helicarrier' one worked last time..." Stark let the insult hang in the air between them as he quickly scanned the room to take inventory of which Avengers would likely take his side. Barton was a military man and would follow orders... Romanoff was an enigma and a toss-up. Bruce would probably do anything to keep himself out of SHIELD's hands, and Thor...could usually be counted on as a fellow man of action, but his behavior since arriving had been decidedly lackluster.

"Well maybe I don't, but there can't be much worse than simply waiting for the enemy to come to you," he said with perhaps more rancor than he'd intended. But then again, he'd been in the arms business for far more years than not.

Eventually, Romanoff had backed him with a look that clearly read - 'You might be right this time, but remember I can kick your ass any day of the week' - and Fury had relented and left the Avengers to figure out a plan among themselves (at for the time being).

... ... ... ...

When Steve appeared later that afternoon looking sheepishly like he had indeed been holed up in a crappy apartment just down the street, no one was particularly surprised.

The penthouse had become something of a high-tech command center with bits of digital clippings scattered on tables and walls around the room, but Bruce (who happened to be the only one not sleeping or otherwise indisposed when the Captain arrived) casually flicked a stack out of existence on the far end of the bar and asked the remaining Avenger if he'd line anything to drink.

"So, are you the resident bartender now?" Steve quipped, taking in Banner's wrinkled shirt and unruly mop of dark hair, which was even more of a mess than usual. The room still bore the remnants of the previous night's activities with blankets and breakfast crumbs strewn across the floor.

"They're all either out or napping," Bruce commented with an indifferent shrug. "You migh as well find somewhere to make yourself at home. Thor's claimed the first room down the hall, but the one next to it looks pretty good. Some kind of library with a couch." Hospitality duties fulfilled, he turned his attention back to the nearest news display.

"Now wait a second here, Banner. All I know is that Fury, looking seriously put-out, arrives on my doorstep and says I'd better get myself over to the tower on the double or he'd drag me here himself." Rogers, who'd had the sense to pack his gear (shield included), dropped the bag on the ground with a smack. "Then I get here, and there's no one around-"

"-except me?" Bruce helpfully finished.

Steve offered a tight smile. "You know that's not what I meant."

"Tony's good at sounding the alarm but not at leading the calvary's what you mean." Bruce shrugged indifferently. "He took off with Pepper to do God know's what. Probably another one of his crazy yet brilliant projects. Natasha and I were here doing research until she went to find Clint. Thor's just down the hall..."

And after that, there was nothing to do but wait until the cast had reconvened and the next course of action set.

... ... ... ...

Well, that wasn't quite what I'd been expecting... and I really need to work on making Thor... less wimpy. Anyhow, thanks for reading part two. I'll aim on finishing the third part within a week.

[m]


End file.
